


Tied Up In Your Love

by PuzlDragon



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Aka Half Of Millennials, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Atem Owns Twenty Cats, Atem Seems To Be A Walking Gay Existential Crisis, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Bondage, But That's A Lot Of Names, Card Games, Dom Mutou Yuugi, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, Dorks, Drunken Flirting, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Gonna get there soon, I've Never Had A Hangover So I Went Off Things Other People Said, Idiots in Love, Light BDSM, M/M, Mai back off hes yuugi's now, Mana Is Loud, Meeting the Family, Mutual Pining, Not at the same time, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Promise, So Please Just Enjoy Colby Jack, Terrible innuendo cocktail names, The Sennan Family Likes Cats, Yami Yuugi | Atem Has His Own Body, Yami Yuugi | Atem Is Alive, Yuugi: growls in gay, give the cutie your jacket move, haha - Freeform, its atems jacket now yuugi, just a little, mai: you've known him for three hours, not at porn just yet, ryou likes origami, somehow those tags will both be in here, wearing each others clothes, yuugi and atem like terrible puns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24512938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuzlDragon/pseuds/PuzlDragon
Summary: Atem's family want him to have a successful job, and a successful boyfriend who has his eyes on marriage.Atem finds a boyfriend who loves cooking with Momma, fishing with Father, can play with the little cousins, and is generally respectful, sweet, and helpful. Sure he dresses in that awful punk fashion, but so does Atem. They all want to know where Atem found him.Problem is, Atem found him in Yuugi's BDSM sex club. This is that story.
Relationships: Bakura Ryou & Mutou Yuugi, Bakura Ryou & Yami Yuugi, Kujaku Mai | Mai Valentine & Mutou Yuugi, Kujaku Mai | Mai Valentine & Yami Yuugi, Mutou Yuugi/Yami Yuugi | Atem
Comments: 17
Kudos: 27





	1. A Not-Damsel, A Not-Bad Boy, And Existential Contemplations

When Atem walks through the door of a bdsm sex club, he isn't sure what he's thinking. At all.

All he knows is that he's been craving. Craving _something_. He has a nice job. He has a nice apartment. He has a wonderful family. Mostly. Ignoring the family branch feuds, of course. He has been through a few scrapes, but he's gotten through his rough patches. All in all, Atem is blessed. A wonderful life. _So why does he long for something he can't explain?_ There wasn't a relationship that helped it. Not a self help book for him. Not even collecting his many cats helped. Which he hates to say. They are precious to him.

Then he finds the videos. The stories. The blogs. Atem finds himself falling down wonderland's never ending rabbit hole of bdsm. Nights spent alone with his hand got a lot more interesting. Even if he doesn't jack off, just scrolling, researching, is far more _exciting._ Tonight while sitting in his apartment with himself, and his many cats, Atem feels empty. Again.

So Atem googles bdsm in Domino City, and finds out bdsm clubs exist. Then he makes the great idea to shower, get dressed as if he was going to a date, and head over there. He doesn't even give himself time to reconsider. Twenty five minutes, then out the door. Something only possible from years of habit with his makeup. He might have the fastest eyeliner routine in the city.

But now he is here. In a bdsm club. And he thinks he is in over his head.

Atem slams his best bluff face on as he heads to the bar. A recognizable place in this wildness. It's a place with dull, warm lighting. It's lit far better than other kinds of clubs. Couches are spread out all over the large room, a stage to the back. There's regular intervals with hooks, and eyebolts in the floor, and ceiling. There's people connected to a few of them. Rope, he expected. Sort of. Not straight in the door. Chains? Not that either.

Because there's people spread out throughout the room. It's a club. Okay. But there's people in all sorts of dress. Many of them couldn't be called dressed at all. People with collars on. People in lingerie. People in leather. People in sexy costumes. People in latex suits. People holding crops, people holding floggers. People being tied up.People being used as footstools. There's one nude guy polishing a woman's leather boots. With his tongue. People being tied up.

Lights flashing, shining off of things. People moving. And sounds. There's so many sounds. Smacking, guttural cries, hums of pleasure, orders, and moans. As Atem passes a group of chairs, he sees a woman kneeling on the floor gyrating her hips. Atem swears he hears the buzz of a vibrator. Across it all, Atem's boots clack on the hard wood floor.

Atem feels light headed. He tries to pace his breaths. He walks straight to the bar. He does his best to ignore everything around him. He refuses to be the person who runs out a sex club before five minutes are up. He refuses to run from any challenge.

So he finds himself sliding onto a tacky vinyl barstool at a classy, hardwood bar. You, know. While someone's being flogged two meters away, and clearly getting off to it in her leather thong. Atem normally goes for a nice quality beer or a good glass of rosé. He orders a double scotch. Ra, help him. He needs it.

After a few sips of his wonderful elixir, Atem decides this is fine. He can just...observe. More research. So he settles in, opting to be the weirdo alone at the bar. At the very least, his outfit fits in. Atem has never felt gladder about his unconventional wardrobe. His black-on-black-on-black, and the shiny leather fits right in.

The blonde bartender doesn't pay attention to him, unless Atem looks like he needs something. Of course, Atem isn't totally impulsive. The only thing he orders after that is cola. She sets it down in a different whiskey glass with a wink. The other patrons at the bar don't pay him mind either. The only time people look at him is when he's clearly been staring too long. After a couple of times for that, he lets his eyes roam around the room instead of direct staring. Then he notices the stairs.

"What's up the stairs?" He asks the other bartender. He's got a shock-white mane, and wears a pastel striped button up, of all things.  
"Hmm? Oh, just other floors. Three has some private rooms, if someone doesn't mind renting them out. Some people use them for recording. Or for clients. The top floor has a balcony. Needless to say, nothing funky can happen up there! Safety precautions, you know. But wonderful view!" the man says. He's got a smooth accent. It's so hard to place. It's almost British, but he pronounces some things like he's from Saga. The man sticks out his hand. "I'm Ryou. New here?"

"Yes. I suppose it's that obvious?" Ryou laughs.

"Well, you did ask what was upstairs. But most people are a little more...introductory if they come here alone." Atem feels his ears flush at how obvious his question was.

"Introductory? Is that even a word?" Pops out of his mouth. Damn. Now he's being rude to this nice man who's time he is taking up.

"It is now, isn't it?" Ryou doesn't seem fazed at all. By the smile as gentle as a new spring day in a garden, he's amused by it. What a nice man. Atem nods. He tries to ignore how flushed his ears still feel.

"Thank you, perhaps I'll go check them out," Atem stands up. He jerks his head towards the stairs as he tips his glass in an awkward salute. He stumbles over his chair in the process. Real smooth. It does not help his blush.

"Ah! Careful, hun!" The blonde bartender calls from further down. She wasn't even _looking_ his way, how?

"It's that barstool. It's only half attached to the floor. Everyone trips over it getting up," Ryou says with a sheepish grin. "Someone messed it up last week. Maintenance isn't able to come in 'til Thursday."

"Ah." Atem does _not_ want to know how a barstool gets messed up in a sex club.

With that exchange, Atem heads up the stairs. Indeed, Ryou is very correct. Makes sense, him working there, and all. The second floor is much like the first. He doesn't take a peek at three. He isn't interested in what's going on in private rooms, or renting them out. The balcony has a glorious view. Atem walks outside, looking up at the stars. Standing, mesmerized, at the city lights. The smooth metal railing beneath his hands has a slight chill, but it heats up quickly enough.

He stands there for who knows how long, wondering why he's there. What he's doing with his life. Why he thought that he might find something to fill this gaping hole inside of him in a sex club. Maybe he should just try therapy again. Not that the last three attempts helped him. Atem sighs, looks up at the full moon. He glances around at the small groups of people loitering around the balcony floor. People who can stand so comfortably here. People who have their sex life figured out. Who don't feel like their innards are filled with ice the moment someone tries to touch him in such a way. He thinks he's broken. Nothing interested until he discovered a wierd niche of internet porn. But it's just a fantasy, isn't it? He doesn't know how he could be comfortable as they are with it. There's just...so much people involved. Atem snorts at himself. Of course, there's other people involved, stupid. He gazes down at his empty cola glass.

Maybe that's his problem. His continual inability to make new connections with people. With people who aren't somehow related to him. He downs the dredges of foamy sugar. He leaves the fresh breeze behind as he walks downstairs. Debates having another drink. Either way, he plans on leaving a big tip for both the bartenders. He doesn't know how they could look people who just came in front of their eyes, and then serve them drinks calmly. Amazing people.

He starts to wander his way down the stars. The beautiful hard wood echoes under his boots. The polished metal railing slides easily under his finger-tapping wanderings. The sounds resonate, and echo in the lost caverns of his thoughts. He may know where he is walking, but he doesn't know how to find himself.

He walks back into the ground floor of the club. He casts his glance across the room. Not studying. Not judging. Not embarrassed or baffled. Just...wondering. Wondering how so many people manage to find creative ways to interact with others. Wondering how they do it. How they can just walk up to people, meet people, know people.

"Hey sugar?What's a pretty flower like you doing all alone?" A hand jerks his left arm back. Another one settles on his right shoulder. He feels someone's hot breath blowing across his neck. It ruffles his coiffed hair.

"I'm busy. Busy being uninterested in you!" Atem rolls out of the man's grasp. He has a lecherous grin on his face. And a look in his eyes Atem knows far too well. A look that says he doesn't give up a game easily. Atem knows that look. He's had it upon his own face often. But he's never dared to look at another person like they're a game piece. A victory to design. Atem snarls at this repulsive beast.

"So kitty's got claws, huh?" The man chortles. Atem made a mistake. He didn't think of this like any other club. Where people might slip things in drinks, or try to corner you. But it doesn't matter. Smashing in this guy's nose will send the right signal. So he might not be allowed back, but he didn't think he would be, anyway. Just another place with too many people who actually know how to interact with others. Just another place Atem doesn't belong.

But then a hand snatches Mr. Grabby's raised arm before it comes near Atem. It jerks back, and so does Mr. Grabby. There is a movement Atem's never seen before, and then Mr. Grabby is face first on the floor with both his hands against his back. And a boot keeping him there. Atem lets his eyes climb up the figure. Holy shit.

Atem might not connect well with people, but he has moments. Moments that remind him he is very, very gay.

Like right now.

A man clothed in leather, and studs. Muscles all over the place. He has a chain necklace on, piercings in his dimples, and eyebrow. Several in his ears. And, oh, he has dimples. And round cheeks. Babyface cheeks. It shouldn't work together. It does.

"I can take care of myself." Listen, he doesn't care how cute this guy is. Atem isn't a damsel.

"I can tell. But you shouldn't have to," even the man's smile looks more suited to a cherub painting. He looks down at Mr. Pathetic.

"I hear of you trying something again, and you'll be out on your ass before you can blink. It won't be the worst of your problems, either. _And I will know._ " It isn't said like a threat. Not a promise. Just a quiet, matter of fact. He removes his boot. The man scrambles up, darts up the stairs backwards as he glares at cherubs-gone-bad boy. Stud with studs huffs at the guy. He turns back around.

"So you're new?"

"It's really that obvious, huh?" Atem deadpans. The man scratches the back of his neck.

"Not really. I just know everyone here. Let me get you a new drink," he says as he gestures to the small remains of soda that got spilled on the floor. Must have been sent flying when that guy jerked him. It wasn't much, but it was an undignified death.

"That's not necessary.

"I know. But it'd be nice right?" Atem really shouldn't trust a stranger. But the guy did help him. And he could sit at the bar, and take the drink from the bartender himself.

"Shouldn't I buy you a drink? Since you helped me?" The man's face sobers instantly.

"You don't owe me anything. I can't stand having those people around." He pauses. He smiles again.

"So my name's Yuugi. You are?" he offers his hand. Atem pauses, looking at it. Meeting a guy who rescued him from a creep in a bdsm club he impulsively went to. This is not what he planned for the day.

"Uh." The smile turns understanding.  
"You don't have to worry about giving your real name around here. If we can say you were here, you can prove the same for us. But if you want to go by code names, you can call me Homer." Yuugi winks.

"Any reason for _Homer?"_ Atem feels boyish glee he hasn't felt in a long time bubble up in his cheeks.

"Full name is Homer Sexual." Yuugi winks while doing double finger guns. Atem can't help it. The wink, the possible come on, the finger guns, the worst joke he's ever heard. He throws his head back in laughter. He's losing it. His gut churns with laughter. He wobbles, topples into Yuugi. Warm, leather-covered arms come around him. Okay, he might be a little tipsy. He looks up into angel-face's eyes. His eyes are warm pools of delight.

Atem easily lets him take his hand, and maneuver him to the bar. Well. As easy as he can let him when he's giggling like he's on laughing gas. Atem lets this strange man lead him through the middle of a BDSM club. They approach the bar, with it's classy wall of lights behind fogged glass showing off the alcohol. Atem tries to sit down on his old seat. Yuugi reacts.

"Oh, no! You don't want to sit there. It's wobbly. It's going to be fixed in a couple days. Sit here, instead." Atem lets this foolish, crazy, pun-making man guide him to a non-wobbly bar stool. Even if he sort of feels a claim on the weird thing. He doesn't say that. _This is why you don't have friends, Atem._ He tells his brain to shut up.

"Mai! If you could get this nice gentleman a nice drink," Yuugi says with a beaming smile. Mai - the blonde- comes over with a crooked smile showing off her violet lipstick. Atem kind of wants to ask her where she got the shade.

"And a regular for you, dear?" Mai pinches Yuugi's round cheeks. He endures it with a pout. Mai doesn't wait for an answer. There's a whiskey in front of Atem in seconds. She starts making some bizarre concoctions with too many ingredients. Atem's eyebrows lift as she starts juggling the bottles. One goes up in the air, a second twirled around the back of her hand. First gets bounced of her elbow, second gets rolled along her shoulders, a third goes up in the air- Atem stops watching. He feels dizzy from the display. He doesn't hear a smashed bottle. Yuugi chuckles. Atem salutes her with his drink. He adds to the tip he plans to give her.

"Show off," Yuugi says with an easy smile. He is shaking his head. "Tonight I'm paying you for bartending. Not a show."Her perfectly plucked eyebrows furrow.

"If you think I can't do both at the same time sweetums, you're wrong. You should know better than underestimate me by now." Yuugi shakes his head as he laughs again. He takes a sip of some sort of concoction. He meets Atem's eyes.

"She's using all her flashy stuff to hide her dosing me with poison slowly. She's gonna do me in, and take over my businesses. It's the damn truth, I tell you." She scoffs.

"Poison is over rated. Don't you think I'm smarter than that?" Yuugi nods his head.

"Of course. Of course. You're going to mess with my car brakes. They won't even suspect you. Especially, when you time it the day after I take it into the shop."

"You don't think I know your schedule? You don't take it into the shop." She humphs, before snatching discarded glasses to clean.

"Big sister vibes. Scary!" Atem wonders, once again, what he's gotten into. Wait.

"This is your business?" Yuugi hums.

"Oops. Looks like I'm caught." He scratches the back of his neck. Runs his fingers through a fine undercut there. The tendons in his neck pulled tight from the way his neck leans on his other hand. He mentally slaps himself into paying attention. _Stop being so thirsty for once in your life, Atem._

"-my friend, and I co-own this. We also work on a side business together. It's under aliases, actually. We both have other work that we work, but it's not like any patrons know our family names. Not that anyone spills the beans. They kind of would have to prove they were here first, you know." He sips from the straw of his candy-red drink. A cinnamon stick garnish bobs with the movement.

l

"That thing looks like a fire truck." Atem says, all intelligent like. Yuugi goggles at him. Then he looks down at it.

"Oh! It's a house special! It's called Morning Rose," Yuugi says with a wink of his too-long eyelashes. He has a brilliant flush on his face, making his cock-eyed smile seem less self-assured.

Atem hates that it takes him a minute.

"Morning- holy! You have drinks like that!?!" To name a drink after morning wood, of all things. Yuugi cackles.

"Have you ever had a Down & Dirty? Or a sixty nine? Maybe a vanilla fun, or a blowjob? Oh, maybe-"

"I am begging you to stop talking."

His only condolence is that Yuugi's flush has spread. It's even in his arms. He looks like a crayon, it's so bright. Yuugi just continues with his cartoon witch impression.

Atem finally finds a cute, gay guy willing to talk to him **_plus_** likes puns, and he runs a sex club, and makes perverted drink names. His whole family would faint if they knew he was here, forget the fact Atem wants more from this guy. Plus, the whole 'I suplexed a guy or some wrestling move for you' thing. Atem thinks he should put the whiskey down. He does not put the whiskey down.

What happens is he sits with a crazy stranger whose virtues are he owns a business or two, is cute, and likes puns. And they talk about Mai's crazy plans to make a coup for the business - with Mai chiming in - discussions about he intricacies of finding good cleaning service, and bouncers for a sex club, great cocktail combinations - with Mai, and Ryou -, and the problems of wearing punk clothes around family.

"I think Grandpa Shimon debates redying my hair as I sleep every time I come over." Atem intones. He really wouldn't be surprised.  
"Dad hates my piercings. I swear he goes into my room every time I visit, and hides them around the house as a passive aggressive message. How else do they end up in the cereal box?!" They laugh together, Atem wiping his eyes. They've had a few drinks at this point. Mai easily plying them with more alcohol 'so you don't see what Jou did upstairs, Yuugi'.

"Hey, hey." Yuugi places his warm hand on Atem's knee. Atem looks up into Yuugi's eyes. What's that word used in all those romance novels? Smoldering. Yuugi's eyes are smoldering as he stares into Atem's.

Atem can't look away.

"Have you, uh- have you ever had a blowjob?"

"Ex- _cuse you?!"_

"Have you ever had a blowjob drink?"

"A- a drink?"

"Yeah. A blowjob. You're all-" Yuugi waves his hand at Atem "graceful and all. Bet you could do it proper."

"Proper?" Atem's still a little one edge, but his curiosity is peeked. Unfortunately, his head is still swimming from those smoldering eyes. And maybe the whiskey.

"Hey, Ryou!" Yuugi calls with a rakish grin. "Can we get two blowjobs?!" Yuugi shouts. Ryou starts up in a fit of giggles. Mai turns around, and plants her hands on her hips.

"I don't know. Do you deserve them?"

"I didn't ask you! I asked Ryou." Yuugi scowls lopsided. The mentioned man looks like he's seconds away from rolling into a rollypolly of humor on the floor.

"I-I got it, Y-Yuugi." Ryou makes two shot glasses full of- something. Then does a giant mountain of whipped cream on top. He slides them across the counter.

"Two blowjobs." He gets out before another wave of giggles hits him. Mai, and a few patrons at the bar shake their head in resignation. Some have joined in the laughter.

So Atem finds himself about to do a blowjob shot. Somehow.

"So the proper way is to put it between your thighs, then." Yuugi swings his head back so quick he almost falls off the wobbly seat. That's what he gets for taking Atem's trustworthy Mr. Wobbler. Atem tells him so. Yuugi just bursts out in laughter. Rude.

Atem turns his attention to the whipped cream menace between his knees. Okay. He's doing this. He's very certain he doesn't want to follow Yuugi or Mr. Wobbly's examples. But he thinks he has the gist of it. He bends forward, lets cool glass clink against his teeth, and swoops backward. Good news: he managed to not spill alcohol everywhere. Bad news: his face is covered in whipped cream.

His grandnana is screaming in his head about dating protocol. He's having drinks with the owner of a bdsm club in his bdsm club. After being rescued like a fairy tale damsel. Embarrassing first date. Wait- was this a date? Nooooo. This was just a drink with a very nice guy. A cute guy. A nice cute guy who didn't like Atem just because he liked puns, and was gay. Also, Atem called him rude. Because he was. Cute, funny, and rude. He turns his attention to cute, and rude.

Who is looking at Atem like he just discovered the meaning of life. Which, okay then. What?

"Wow..." Yuugi whispers, like no one at the bar can hear him. Newsflash, they can. A bang on the countertop interrupts them. Mai, and Ryou stand stone faced across from them.

"Sooooo, how was your first blowjob?"

"I hope you liked it. I was very glad to give it to you."

"Get back to work!" Yuugi shouts. He waves them, shushing as if they were cats. By their Cheshire grins they might be. Then Atem watches Yuugi do the same maneuver with his shot. And as he watches Yuugi's adam's apple bob, he thinks he's a little screwed.

Yuugi levels head back to face Atem. But only for a moment. For then he's half leaning off his chair, chortling wildly.

"Your face! It's all!" Yuugi gestures to his mouth area.

"What about you, huh?" Atem flaps his hand to the copious whipped cream on Yuugi's lips. Yuugi snorts.

"Maiiiiiii. Honeycakes. My favorite friend of the year. Can we get some napkins?" Yuugi whines.

"Get them yourself. I've got four customers right now, mister."

"Mai," Yuugi whines. "I don't know if I should be around glass right now." To prove his point, he almost wobbles off his stool. Atem catches him. However, this only starts a newton's cradle effect. Ryou, an actual angel, walks by.

"Thought you would need these. Made them earlier when everything was slow." Ryou plops something on both their heads. Atem grabs his. It's a little sailor's hat. Atem doesn't think it would be very durable. Napkin hats usually aren't. He loves it anyway.

"Aww, but now I can't use it," Yuugi exclaims.

"That's your problem," Ryou says as he unloads dishes. There's nothing for it. They use up the precious hats. Goodbye, mister hat. A valiant death.

"So, uh, do you live far from here?" Atem narrows his eyes at the funny, somewhat-stranger.

"Perhaps. Why?" Yuugi just bursts into a full belly laugh.

"I'm trying to see if you need a cab."

"Oh." Yuugi laughs again.

"So? You need a cab?"

"No, but thank you. I'll be fine." Atem gets off the barstool.

Atem is not fine.

His feet scuttle underneath him. He tries to use his arms to compensate, but they windmill in the air. He feels himself tilting.

Then he isn't falling. He looks down. Sees strong, muscled arms around his waist. He thinks, idly, that they look good there. _Down, boy,_ he whispers at the extremely gay part of his brain. _Down._ Then the arms flex, pulling him back against a warm wall. Oh, that's person. He turns his head. Looks right into Yuugi's eyes. Funny, in the light they look...

"Are your eyes _purple?_ "

"They're contacts! You like 'em?" Yuugi whispers in his ear. Atem would say he purrs, but Atem knows humans cannot purr. He knows. He tried to learn how to purr at his furry babies to no avail. If he cannot do it, no one can. Rude.

"They're real nice," Atem brushes Yuugi's hair back so he can get a better close. He feels his forehead touch something. Oh, it's Yuugi's forehead.

"What's your normal color?"

"Blue." Atem feels Yuugi's warm breath puff across his lips. Huh? Wait, it's because they're so close.

"What's yours?" Atem wants to feel offended, but he knows red is not an eye color people have.

"Just brown."

"Sounds pretty." Atem laughs. Feels himself shake, and sway. Yuugi's arms flex around him, holding him steady. That is nice. Really nice.

"Blue sounds pretty, too." Yuugi's face flushes that deep red.

"Aw, shucks." Atem feels another grin light up his face.

"You know, you're pretty when you blush. You have nice musckle-muscles, too." It is completely necessary for Atem to squeeze a bicep in time with this. To illustrate his point. Nothing unsavory here. He boops Yuugi's nose with his other hand.

"Ah, okay? Thanks?" Yuugi's face figures out get even redder. Cute.

"-hem. Hello? Ahem. Both of you!" They turn around as someone claps in their ears. Mai stands there with her hands close to their faces.

"I called a cab. Figures you'd hang around 'til we close. But if I think you need it, I'll call one for you too, mister." She makes an I'm watching gesture with her long, sharp nails. Atem finds himself holding her hand by the wrist.

"Your nails are so pretty! Where did you get them done. I love the swirly stuff!" Indeed, Mai has black, and gold swirls over a vivid purple. The first two fingers are shorter, and not sharp. They are also bright gold with black edging. Nice. He says so.

"Oh, you're just a sweetheart, aren't you? I could just eat you up. Unfortunate that Yuugi got you first, huh?" Atem is very confused at why she's holding his face, and patting his cheeks. It feels nice. Mai's nice. He feels like a champagne bottle, fizzing over the top. He feels great, he has the taste of sugar on his tongue, and there's nice people with him. Something warm flops over his shoulders. He puts his hand up to feel it. Warm, and soft leather. He lets his fingers dance around smooth spikes. Fiddles with a zipper. He turns around.

Yuugi's missing the jacket that was tired around his hips. Oh, that's what Atem's wearing! Oh...that's what Atem's wearing!

"This is your jacket, isn't it?" Yuugi stops giving a hard stare to something over Atem's shoulder. But when he turns around again, all he sees is Mai giving a sweet smile. Sweeter than all the drinks Yuugi offered him to try. Yuugi's nice. Mai's nice, too. And Ryou! Everyone who works here is probably nice like them. He says so. Mai coos.

"Yep, it's my jacket, sugar. Don't want you to get cold on the way home. Wearing just a tank top at these hours isn't smart, sweetheart." Atem just laughs.

"That rhymes!" Yuugi gives him a soft smile. With those eyes. Those smoldering eyes. Atem feels giddy seeing them again.

"It does, doesn't it?"

"Why am I sugar? You're so sweet!" Atem proceeds to throw his head back as he laughs. This is great. Yuugi's great. Yuugi's club is great.

"Me? Sugar? Aw, you're gonna make me blush." Indeed, he's blushing. He's so cute. Atem tells him so. Right as he pats Yuugi's pretty cheeks. Yuugi's blush grows redder. Perfect.

"Hey, if I come back. Am I gonna see you? 'Cuz this is your place, and all?" One of Yuugi's hands maneuver to his shoulder. It smoothes out the jacket, encouraging Atem to put his arms in the sleeves.

"How about this. You can come sometime to give me back the jacket. And if you want to stick around, I can show you the ropes," Yuugi winks.

"And maybe a little more."


	2. A Hand To Hold, And A Hand To Reach Out With

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Atem keeps having existential issues 😆. Mahaad is a mindreader and no one enjoys this. Yuugi is cute, but knows what he's doing. Mana keeps screeching. Cats are cute. Especially Cobalt "Colby Jack" Sennan.
> 
> Thank y'all for reading!!

Atem wakes up. He wish he didn't. The world is a washing machine. He's the clothes.

Also, the washing machine has hell's sunlight. And a pounding noise. Maybe he's just in hell. He racks his brain. He's off today. Why is he doing anything, but sleeping his misery off?

So Atem pulls the duvet over his head while he fumbles in his nightstand drawer. He reaches around until he finds his nausea medication bottle. He pulls it to him, and pops the dissolving pill under his tongue. It wasn't prescribed for hangovers, but hopefully it does it's job. Preparation for the next task initiates.

Which means he tucks the duvet more firmly around him as he shuffles to the window. He has to let go of the duvet to shut the blinds. He yanks them. Hisses at the bright agony. However, it is blissfully over. And Mama said getting the deep purple (almost black) drapes wasn't a good idea. Then the thumping. The continuous pounding noise throughout this whole escapade. He walks quietly to his front door. If it's someone important, like his landlord, a coworker, or Father than it is best to keep them waiting for a minute as he dresses.

Atem sneaks over. His bare feet are coated with the tacky feeling of dried sweat. His whole body is, actually. It makes each step on his wood floors stick like a suction cup. He ignores how his leather pants has left painful indents in his skin from being slept on. Ignores the encrusted makeup, and hair spray he also slept in. He -regrettably- nudges Colbalt the maine coon out of his way. His little fluff butt mews in protest. Atem stops to make kissing noises at him. Colby Jack forgives him instantly, rubbing up against his legs. Atem dares a quick ear scratch before returning to his task. He steps into the genkan, and peeks through the eyehole.

Oh. It's his siblings. He opens the door so they can see him in all his terrible, hung over glory. The longer they wait, the less likely he gets food they brought.

They have brought no food. Tragedy.

"What's up?"

"You mean aside from you looking like a zombie in a cheap b-list movie?" Mahaad arches a brow. Mana swarms in for a hug.

"Eeeeew! And smelling like one! You reek of sweat. And whiskey! When do you drink whiskey?" She tolerates the hug for ten seconds, before throwing herself out of his arms.

"Thank you, my dearest sister. Lovely to see you as well this morning. Oh how I adore you. It brings light into my life to see you," Atem deadpans.

"You smell like alcohol, dearest brother. You usually don't go over a couple beers, or wine," she snarks.

"Answer, little brother. What is wrong?" Mahaad, despite his warmer tone, still takes efforts to skirt around Atem, and his sweat stink.

"Taxes. The lack of world peace. Wage gaps. Life is a never ending cycle of futile attempts to find meaning in our short existence before we are forgotten by the cosmos. I can't hear the TV when eating potato chips."

Mahaad gets this look on his face. The 'I am fed up on your shit but am forced to tolerate you because we are related' look. Normally, Atem would enjoy it. Right now? Atem is trying not to puke.

Atem starts swaying. He feels so dizzy. Mahaad sighs, before catching the terrible mess that is his little brother. Mahaad walks him over to the couch. He has the decency to lay Atem down gently instead of tossing him in his disgust. The couch is soft. The couch forgives his alcohol-based sins.

"Atem! I found your nausea meds," Mana says gently as she appears besides his head. He smiles at her. Or tries to. There's no telling what face he's making.

"Already had one. Thank you guys."

"Of course, Atem," Mana says as the sweetheart she is.

"You're welcome," Mahaad says as clearly as he can convey resignation, and disappointment. But Mahaad stays anyway. A glass of water appears near his hand.

"Thank you, Mahaad." Mahaad just tsks at him.

"You know at your age to drink water when drinking."

"I did. I just took sips of several cocktails. Clearly the secret ingredient was misery potion." Mana snorts. At least someone here is amused. Atem closes his eyes. Maybe it will help the feeling of washing-machine world.

Next time he opens his eyes, he clearly nodded off. He wakes in a room dimly lit with lamp light, the windows covered. He feels something stirring in his hair, strands shifting to an intrusion. He jumps for a moment, before he looks up. It's just Mana. A welcome intrusion to his condo, and his hair. Though he isn't sure why she would want to touch it. Day-old hairspray is yuck. But he's grateful. It's a blessing on the overworked drum of his skull lining.

Atem shifts out of his sweaty, and gross - but comfy!- cocoon. He sits up. He regrets it. Even with the nausea gone, the little light still hammers at his eyeballs. The smell of grease is unappealing. The smell of grease? Food. His stomach rebels at the thought. But he knows from his stints at college that food is kind after hangovers. Food can be heaven after hangovers.

So Atem gets up, with a quick thank you to Mana. He isn't rude. Then he shuffles his feet like he is a shuffleboard puck. Careful, and slow. He takes very shallow breathes into the top of his lungs. Right when he reaches the kitchen entry, he almost face plants into Mahaad's cardigan-covered chest. He steps backward at Mahaad's speed until he thinks he can turn out of Mahaad's way. But, no dice. Mahaad crooks one of his arms full of food until he captures Atem in his elbow.

Then Atem is mercilessly dragged along by this madman as Mahaad tsks at him the whole way. He's dizzy, and this doesn't help. But he's tucked close to the warm, soft wall of his brother. He feels better, even if Mahaad is a madman. Mahaad sets plates down on the table, before pushing him gently into a seat.

"Eat. Slowly. I have no desire to clean up after you." Then Mahaad removes the cover off of the chipped ceramic plate in the middle of the polished table.

***"Ta'amiya!"***

"Yes, the little balls of grease you so adore, baby brother." There is a soft smile on Mahaad's face now. A proud one. He should be. His Ta'amiya rivals Grandnana's.

Atem launches himself at Mahaad. His stomach protests. He doesn't care.

"Oof!" Mahaad laughs softly at him. Atem still doesn't care. Well, maybe he cares a little. He pinches the apple of Mahaad's cheek.

"Looks like your stoic face went away. Where were you hiding this smile, huh?"

Mana screeches in delight. Her feet are a flurry of patter against the floor. Cobalt meows, interested in the action. He jumps onto Mahaad's foot, reaching up, and pawing at Mahaad's hands in a jealous protest.

Mahaad firmly moves Atem's hand away from his cheek, ruffling his hair. The he grabs Mana. He picks her up, twirling her. Mana's floral-patterned sundress twirls with the motion. It is a flurry of riotous colors swirling in the air. The fabric ruffles with the motion, joining with her melodious laughter. It pangs at Atem's head. He ignores it. The warmth in his chest, his family, is worth more than the drumming of his skull. Mahaad plops Mana down into a chair. It lurches back into the movement. The chair screeches on the hard floor. Atem winces as it assaults his ear drums.

"Watch my floor, please!" Mahaad stares at Atem for a quiet moment. His eyes wander over Atem.

"I apologize." Atem nods.

"Think nothing of it," Atem responds. He is left feeling like he is balancing on a tightrope. And falling without realizing. He feels like that a lot with Mahaad. He hates it, but he can never hate his brother. Even if it is discomforting, the way he pierces right to the truth. Mahaad gestures for Atem to sit as he doses out the food. The smell of grease in the air roils Atem's stomach. He chews slowly on it, mindfully masticating the crunch.

After a bit, his stomach decides it likes the food after all, growling at him. Atem takes to shoving it all in his face as quickly as he can. Mahaad tsks at his manners. He doesn't understand. He doesn't have the hangover from hell. He gulps it down with Mana's favorite lemon-hibiscus tea. He keeps it in his cabinets just for her to visit. She pours herself a third glass. The loud sounds of her gulping echo in the small dining nook. She sighs as she drains the glass in seconds. Atem smiles at her

"I thought I was supposed to be the one liking fruity tastes." She yowls at him. He endures the pain it gives him. He says this to her every time. It's worth it. Mahaad stretches his long arms over the table. He is an effective wall between Mana, and Atem. Physically, anyway. She blows Atem a raspberry. They say Mahaad took all the height, and left none for the two of them. Atem swears by it.

When Mahaad judges them to be peacefully eating on their own long enough he deems them ready to be peaceful, and reasonable diners. Meaning he lowers his giant arms. Mana tosses a ta'amiya ball at Atem with a cheeky smile at Mahaad. Atem catches it between his teeth. He winks at both of them. Mahaad huffs.

The rest of the meal passes mostly without notice. Atem's head aches, but the nausea passes with a full belly. He feels actually a bit more like a living human. Or starts to. Atem never feels like a respectable person until he's dressed fully. Yes, that includes his makeup. Otherwise he is in what Mana refers to as 'gremlin mode'. Catch him in yoga pants eating two tubs of ice cream at two in the morning. While cackling to badly done documentaries. Atem takes everything seriously. Including downtime.

Mahaad says he curses approximately 62% more in gremlin mode. Atem hasn't asked. Honestly, Atem's terrified Mahaad has actually categorized every instance of his cursing over years of his life to come up with this number. Mahaad would.

But as Atem staggers his woozy self over to the sink with his plate, he feels better. He flops back into the soft embrace of his couch once again.

"You're on your own with the dishes."

"You cooking was wonderful. I wouldn't ask such of you." Atem has the best siblings. Who needs friends, we he can spend time with such delightful people.

Mahaad walks back out of the kitchen. He stops at the end of the couch. He towers over it. A long figure in navy knitted-cable. He does another one of those staring moments. Atem is reminded there is downsides to siblings. Foreboding settles in his skull besides the eye strain. Mahaad reaches out to him. He clasps Atem's hand. It feels like an apology. Mahaad then pulls Atem's hand off the couch. His hand is balanced in his brother's much larger one. They make a smooth line in the air. Baggy leather, and baggy knit. Mahaad contemplates the wrist, and palm in his grasp. Look's up his arm. He meets Atem's eyes.

"This is not yours." Atem remembers how siblings are he actual worst, thank you. Mana twirls around with a gasp. Her long curls smack Atem in the face. She reaches over, gently grasps the fabric between two fingers. She raises her hand, a leather tent forming. She sticks her hand into the sleeve besides Atem's.

"It isn't!" Yes, the absolute worst, thank you. Atem stares at the cute kittens on the television screen. The sounds of their little mews echo throughout the room. One little fluffball falls off a step. Mana should love this. Mahaad should. He telepathically begs for it to catch their attention. *Look! Kittens! We all adore The Kitten Bowl!*

But the old recording does not magnetically attract their attention. Atem is left to his suffering. The worst bit is he can't even deny it. The only baggy things Atem owns are his pajamas. Everything else might as well be painted on his trim form. It's a good body. He works hard for it. He can show it off. Yet, he finds his logic biting him in his toned ass. They all know leather jackets are not his pjs.

Atem will not mention on his life how he fell asleep smelling Yuugi's cologne. Nor how he slept peacefully. For the first time in weeks.He will stab himself with the used forks in the sink before that.

Mana does not accept his solemn contemplations of his hubris. She throws her arms around his neck. His stale alcohol stench means nothing. Not anymore. Not in the face of new discoveries of the ruins of Atem's love life. She shakes him a bit. His stomach does not appreciate the sloshing. Through it all, Mahaad stands there. A patient presence. He will shadow Atem until he gives his answers. Mahaad lets Atem say them in his own time, but Mahaad does not forget. He does not give up. Atem is stuck answering with this. Atem looks as a orange tabby named Petey tackles his sibling Peanut. He wonders if they are all given P names. Sensing his ignoring, Mahaad speaks.

"You plan to see him again. You would not have taken the jacket otherwise." Mana screeches louder. Dammit, Mahaad.

"You plan to see him? Atem! Are you going out with someone? Is it someone we know? This is amazing!" Mana says this at the volume of an airplane takeoff. Ow. Perhaps they are trying to punish his eardrums until he answers.

Atem unwinds her vice grip. He sets her on the couch as he walks to the window. He looks through a small opening in the drapes. It hurts his head less than Mana's screeching. He watches the cars go by. One red, one black. A girl peddling a bicycle with another clinging to the back. A man walking a dog. He closes his eyes. He sighs.

"Atem?" Mahaad asks quietly. Mana looks concerned. No, they both do. Mahaad's contemplative look has those creases in the corner of his eyes. Dammit.

"Did it not go well, Atem?" Mana's voice is so soft, she can barely be heard past the hum of passing cars.

"It was. It's just." Atem sighs defeated. How is he supposed to get around the obvious fact. The fact he met a guy at a BDSM club. He can't tell them that. Besides the obvious fact they would worry, Atem doesn't know. He really doesn't know the etiquette for this. And Yuugi's just nice. He's just. He's nice. He's a nice weirdo who makes terrible puns, and runs three businesses, and works at his family's shop. He tackles creeps who grope people. He also is crude, runs a BDSM club which he can't say, and doesn't necessarily like Atem. Even if he's gorgeous, and kind. And. And.

"I. It. It was just drinks. He was kind. Friendly. And I."

Atem pauses past the lump in his throat. Mahaad stands by patiently. Mana hums anxiously. When Atem turns his head, he sees Mana clutching her sundress into a mess. Those wrinkles won't go away with ironing. Atem knows. She's done it before. Atem has the urge to go over, to smooth it out as best he can. To boop her nose. Tell her it's fine. To pat Mahaad on the arm like he always does. To poke that spot between his eyebrow's. To tell Mahaad that if he keeps worrying like he does, he'll end up with a grand canyon there. Atem does not do it. He does not do any of that.

Atem stands at the window, a sliver of light illuminating his sore eyes as he watches buses at the stop light. Everything looks so small from this height.

"I didn't feel hollow."

The florist in the shop below tosses water into the street. A woman with grocery bags runs to catch the bus. She makes it just in time. The dog from before is now barking at a bird. The bird, and its fellows fly off in a flurry of blues. The blues are blurry. It all is. Atem blinks.

There is soft footsteps against the floor. Mahaad's hands appear in Atem's lower vision. Mahaad grasps Atem's hands for the second time that morning. He pulls Atem's hand from the curtain. Unravels his loose fist with gentleness. The soft fabric of a handkerchief is pressed into Atem's palm. Atem looks down at the square. It is fuzzy in his eye sight. Rubs the chunky knit between his fingers.

Atem is pushed forward with an oomph. Mahaad's places his large hand upon his shoulder to steady him. Atem feels a vice wrap around his ribs. He moves a hand towards it. Feels the tiny fingers clutching onto his shirt for dear life. There is a ginger touch against Atem's forehead. Mahaad's long fingers smooth back his tangled curls. His arms envelop Atem, and Mana in a hug.

Down below, the lunch rush traffic goes by.

\---------------

For the second weekend in a row, Atem walks back through the oak doors of Delectable Games. For a moment, Atem is impressed. And pissed. No one knows Yuugi's name? Game is printed right up there!

But he has to shake his head, and walk past it. He's walking into a BDSM club for the second time in his life. The first time didn't go so well. Now, he didn't exactly have a plan. But he knows well that getting drunk off your ass with a cute stranger who saves you from a groper is not what patron would call a good trip to the club. Atem's blush awakens at the top of his ears. Great. Not even two minutes in, and he's already broken his goal of not blushing. He stands for a moment in the entrance, gazing around. Damn. Leather, studs, and punks everywhere. But not a sight of Yuugi. Atem sighs. He trudges over to the bar, using his sight only to prevent run-ins. He does not need to start an issue over staring. Not when holding Yuugi's jacket. It's bad enough he had to hunt down the finishes used so it could get dry-cleaned. He couldn't give someone a jacket reeking of stale alcohol, and sweat. Especially, not someone who was so kind to him. Atem hugs the jacket a little closer. Atem reaches the bar, and sits on a barstool in front of Mai.

"Hey, hun! Haven't seen you for a while. Wondered if you were coming back. Honda bet you might just mail Yuugi's jacket here." Atem grimace in a vague attempt of a smile.

"I didn't realize strangers were betting on my coming, and goings." Mai waves him off.

"Oh, nothing like that. It's just everyone was interested when someone seems to permanently loose their jacket when it starts getting cold outside." Atem grimaces down at the bundle of generosity.

"I hadn't realized the extent of my impact."

"Oh, don't worry, hun," Atem looks up as she snorts. "Yuugi keeps a spare change of clothes in the office. We all do. In case something gets on us." Atem hates to say it. But he spectacularly loses any hint of keeping his blush under control. He feels it spread across his face, race down his torso. Mai bursts into full laughter.

"Hun, I meant when people vomit. We have a fully stocked bar." Atem stares down at a reflection of light in the polished metal bar. He refuses to look up at Mai. He ignores the death screams of the tattered echoes of his pride laying scattered in dust motes across the floor. He will never recover.

"So, do you want anything to drink? Sorry, hun. I do have other customers." Atem looks up. He follows her gaze. Oh. There's a trio leisurely pawing at each other's lingerie as they gaze over the menu.

"My apologies," he ignores how Mai's eyebrows arch. "Could I have one of those citrus cocktails?" Mai's mouth is definitely twitching into a smile.

"You mean a sixty-nine?" Death gurgles of his pride. He looks back at the bar admirably. It's a fine, hard material. Maybe if he crashes his head against it, he can gain a concussion. No need to remember this at all. He contemplates. He rejects it. There's no way to make it look an accident. He doesn't know if anyone here would forgive him for it. 

He settles for nodding minutely, instead. He resolutely ignores Mai's snickering. There is a soft chime before him as the glass meets the bar.

"Thank you," Atem mumbles. Looking down, he misses Mai's intention. She pinches his check.

"Don't change, sweetie." Her heels click to the other side of the bar. She leaves with one last laugh. Atem contemplates. Maybe he is going to give himself a concussion.

Atem settles for sipping on his drink. Wine cocktails are cheaper than medical bills. The taste is a burst of fresh sweetness. A crisp citrus flavor buoys it, it's tart restraining it. It does not overpower, it does not stab him with acidity. He fiddles with the straw. He circles it around the drink. He smudges little imprints in the glass's condensation. What is he expecting from this venture? The return of a loaned item? Or...perhaps more. Perhaps that temptation that crawls along his skin in longing.

A droplet descends down the glass. He falls onto the coaster with a plink. Atem watches. 

He contemplates leaving the jacket with Mai. He looks up after her. Her shiny curls bounce with glee as she makes drinks. She is a dedicated originator of both drinks, and smiles. Her grin as she talks to a patron is crooked. Cocky, perhaps. But cocky would imply overconfidence. She is quite self aware of herself, her abilities. Sure steadiness in the twister of the busy bar. She belongs in this place of unique ventures, and overwhelming experiences. She belongs. Does Atem wish to belong, too? Atem looks at his glass.The droplets that slide down like a melting snowcap. His eyes slide down. To the coaster below.

The moisture has soaked in like thirsty soil drinking in liquid life.

Atem hears bold, unrestrained laughter. It's joy is unrestrained. He looks up. There, by the door. There is a lean, toll figure. A shaggy mop of hair. The man speaks to someone behind him. His words can't be made out clearly, but the sound of his voice carries. The man walks further in, windmilling an arm in flurried emphasis. And there, behind him, stands a sight for sore eyes.

Yuugi.

Atem's heart races. He glances down to the bundle of leather in his grasp. He traces a stud in contemplation. It's now or nothing. He must decide. He looks up at the two men. Watches how Yuugi smiles at his friend. He's rapt. Attentive. He does not let anything distract him, not even the menageries of sensations within the club. Of course, he might be used to them

Atem watches as Yuugi converses with the blonde. Watches Yuugi give that intense focus to the man. Atem feels a yearning in his gut. A sensation crawling under his skin. A burning ache for it. For...for what? To have eyes like that on him. Yes, he wants that attention. To be the center of Yuugi's world for just a moment.

But fear roils in his chest. Fear of rejection. Of not being worthy of it. Fear of the unknown depths. Will this fall out beneath his feet? Leave him stranded? Fear of it not filling this hollow in his chest. Or doing so temporarily. Is this a hunger that cannot be satisfied? Is Atem that empty. That broken?

Atem watches condensation droplets flowing like a snowcap coming to life for spring. He traces smooth metal. Atem makes a decision. He looks back up. He watches as the men pass near to the bar. And Atem waves.

It isn't Yuugi that he catches the attention of. The blonde man pauses midstep as he sees Atem. The man blinks. Realization dawns in his eyes. He turns around to his friend, nudging Yuugi as he says something. Then Yuugi turns around.

Yuugi's smile is a million volts. It sends current throughout Atem. It leaves him energized. Antsy. Breathless. Atem distantly feels his face mimic the look. He watches as Yuugi slaps the blonde on the back before wandering over. The whole time, Yuugi stares him in the eyes. Atem feels like he should look away. He doesn't know if he could. If he wants to. He's charmed. Absolutely charmed by this man with a big goofy grin, baby cheeks and enough studs he could act as a meat tenderizer.

Then Yuugi gets close. He leans his hip against the bar as he continues smiling at Atem.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"You're back."

"I am," Atem says as he mentally slaps himself in the face. Surely, he can do better than that. Half his life he had speech lessons, dammit. He rubs his finger over metal. Wait. He looks down, away from that bright smile. At a leather bundle. He mentally slaps himself again. He proffers the jacket gingerly.

"Here's your jacket back. I had it cleaned." He does not mention the fact he had it cleaned because he slept with it as a safety blanket, huffing in Yuugi's smell all night. He does not mention it. At all. At least his mouth obeys him that much. Yuugi waits until Atem meets his eyes again. He slowly traces his fingers along the cloth.

"You cleaned it? You did so well, Atem."

Atem feels like he's a snake. A snake entranced by a snake charmer. The back of his mind says that the pop culture is false. Atem squashes it ruthlessly. Let's it be washed away as his mind fizzes with the warmth Yuugi brings to his head. The itching feeling of dissatisfaction under Atem settles, fed. Atem can't understand why. But this man makes him feel things. Atem doesn't think he could unravel what. He isn't going to try.

Oh. Atem should respond.

"Thank you," Atem manages.

Yuugi keeps eye contact. There is a proud smile on his face. Like Atem did more than drop a jacket off at the dry cleaners. The roiling fear clogging Atem's throat unsnarls. How could it remain? He feels like his heart is a fluttering bird, clasped gently in Yuugi's tender grasp. Atem shivers. Yuugi watches him with that gaze. He cocks his head.

"So. Did you decide you wanted to stay?" Atem pauses. This is a simple question. He feels like before him is a tightrope. That there is so much before him, a yawning abyss of the unknown. He looks at the man before him.

"Yes."

"And what was your decision?" Yuugi portrays not a hint of desire for one way or the other. He waits as if Atem's answer is an unweighted choice as what flavor of drink to pick.

"I'd like you to show me more." Yuugi's smile blooms into a beaming smile. It displays his teeth. It feels like it should be predatory. Like it should echo something instinctive in his mind. But Atem thinks his heart would be carried gently within this man's jaws. The very definition of safety.

"Wonderful," Yuugi purrs.

Atem stretches his hand out to Yuugi. It is enveloped with tender warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
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	3. Figs, Horses, and Checklists

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what figging, is, and it's history from the old sherlock kinkmeme. May that archive of beautiful writing, weird prompts, and insanity rest in peace. It is hardly the most bizarre thing out there, but the question of how the practice it jumped from horses to human bdsm still looms over anyone who ponders it.
> 
> I might be sleep deprived.

Atem honestly had no idea what he was getting himself into. He just agreed to do...something kinky. In a BDSM club. With the BDSM club owner. Who wears three cows worth of leather. And has proven he can throw a man around. Atem refuses to admit the fact he finds the last part attractive. Not to anyone else, anyway

  
But BDSM club. With Yuugi.

  
Yuugi leads him softly by the hand to the stairs. They walk up them, steps of their boots making soft thuds against the hard wood. The whole time, Yuugi walks besides him, holding Atem's wrist. Yuugi's fingers are soft, with only a couple of calluses. He brushes Atem's wrist the whole time. Soft, continuous little touches. It makes Atem aware of how his skin feels. How it fits over muscle, and skin. The way that it shivers with a need for attention under Yuugi's caress. Atem shivers, his nervous system blooming under the attention. The first spring buds of something awaking in Atem's lonely inner landscape.

  
Yuugi watches him with strange eyes. A piercing expression, but so soft. Like it's slowly roasting him to the core. Melting every bit of his insides. He's a creme brulee. Atem winces as Yuugi looks away. That's a terrible metaphor. Absolutely shameful. What the fresh hell is this man doing to him.

  
"I'm going to go grab something. Is it okay for you to wait here?" Yuugi opens the nondescript black door to, presumably, one of the private rooms.

  
Inside is a room with rich, dark brown walls encircling a warm-lit space. A four poster bed with crimson sheets lay at the front of the room.

  
Okay. Yuugi's getting something. Something that they need. In a BDSM sex club. Obelisk's fists. Atem bores his gaze into the rich dark wood walls. He successfully keeps from gulping, or trembling. He manages a nod.

  
"Alright, then." Yuugi escorts him into the room with his gentle lead. He lets Atem go with a slow gesture to black, smooth couch, and chair against the wall. The legs, and arms were sturdy rich wood. It matched the walls, the small table by the bed, and the posters of the bed.

  
Because there was a bed.

  
Silky-looking, crimson sheets adorned the four-poster giant thing. The posters, and the vertical rungs of the headboard were glossy, and sturdy hard wood. Very sturdy. Because it probably has to be. In a BDSM sex club. Holy.

  
There was a small schick noise, drawing Atem's attention. He looked up to watch Yuugi stand over a mini-fridge in the corner. Because...there was a mini-fridge? Atem tilted his head. Yuugi bent down, grabbing something out of it. And, oh. Yuugi tailored those leather pants very well. Very. Very. Well.

  
"Are you hungry?"

  
"Huh?"

  
"Are you hungry? Do you want something to snack on?" Yuugi's gaze was very patient. So gentle. Then Atem realized where they were. And what they were about to do - holy crap - so maybe if Atem got distracted it was just fine. Wait a second.

  
"A snack?" Maybe Yuugi had some sort of aphrodisiac eat chocolate covered strawberries off each-others bodies thing. Which wasn't what he expected when he came here but - I mean Atem was down for it. Maybe? However, Atem's stomach did not agree. It was curdled into a mess. Even the thought of food made his stomach shudder in rebellion.

  
"Um. No, I am fine. Thank you."

  
"Okay." How was it legal for a person to make their gaze so understanding? It was beyond Atem. Yuugi walks over, holding out a cold, wet waterbottle. Atem found himself taking it out of autopilot than anything else. Atem's fingerprints made impressions in the condensation. It was wet. Smooth. A small feeling of reality. Atem gripped it tightly, the plastic crinkling.

  
Atem looks up. He catches Yuugi...stuffing a protein bar in his mouth. A whole protein bar.

But Yuugi doesn't turn around to leave the room. He pauses, clasping Atem's cheek in his hand. He comes in close, pushing his forehead softly against Atem's. Yuugi looks straight into Atem's eyes. His eyes are that soft molten again. Yuugi is also still munching on a protein bar. Atem can smell it. It's a horrendous imitation caramel taste. Yuugi's eyes are soft. He's a weirdo who likes bad protein bars. They're in a BDSM club. Atem's in a BDSM club. Yuugi is munching on a protein bar. While staring into Atem's eyes. With a protein bar in his mouth. A protein bar. A bad one.

  
Atem's feeling of reality is just doing confused somersaults right now.

  
Yuugi leans back. He then plants a kiss on Atem's forehead. Yuugi smiles at him, shifting his mouthed stash into his cheek. It bulges out with glory. He talks with his partially-freed mouth.

  
"Right back. Promise." His smile is very earnest, and sweet. Even marred by bad semi-food mastication. Then Yuugi walks his very nice tailored pants, and platform boots with an amazing amount of buckles out the door.

  
Atem lets out a breath once the door clicks shut. Then an inhale. Then an exhale. Then an inhale of straight anxiety because _what is he doing here, what is happening._

  
He looks around. Chairs, walls, door, table, bed - holy fuck bed - minifridge, oh, hi again chairs. Atem looks down at the water bottle in his hand. His hand print is firmly set in the condensation. He moves his hand, setting it further back on the bottle. The crinkle is very nice. A very nice sound. It fills the absolute silence taken up by Atem's thoughts.

  
Atem lifts his fingers up, looks at the new crisp finger prints. He puts his hand down. Curls his fingers back again. The same cookie cut out of his hand. He slowly smudges his fingers between it. Wipes away the clear silhouette in his vision.

  
Atem looks back up. Takes another ragged inhale. He turns around. Walks a few paces. Once he reaches the wall he stops, looks at the flower shaped wall-scone lamp. Its warm fades out into the ages of the frosted glass. Delicate orange veins are layered into the yellow glass. It's glow is more brilliant then it would seem for such a soft light. Atem breathes out. He turns, and paces the other direction. 

  
He stops before the couch. It is a smooth, shiny surface. It probably needs to be smooth, and easy to clean. Oh. Because this is a BDSM club. Atem breaths out much harsher this time. Atem turns, walking back to the lamp. Stop. Stop, Atem, stop. Yuugi will be back any minute. He cannot be caught pacing of all things. Atem hurries over to the couch. The couch of possible many stories, but so is probably every part of this place. So Atem does his best to ignore it.

  
Ignore all of it. He looks back at the waterbottle sweating in his palm. Water. Water is nice. Water is cold. Water is crisp. Water is forgiving. Atem unscrews the cap, fumbling with his wet digits. He pops it open, the click echoing in the noiseless room. He puts the bottle to his lips, gulping it quickly. He stops, no more water flowing. Oh. He's drank it all. He huffs, screwing the cap back on. He looks up, drumming his fingers on the empty plastic.

  
Atem roves his eyes around the room slower. He spots a trashcan by the headboard he missed. Makes sense. The walls, once again. Spots hooks, and bolts in it. Ah. He wonders his gaze around slowly. Over the grain of the wood. Eventually, he stops perusing them out of boredom. His eyes skate across the floor. Oh. There's eyebolts there, too. His eyes circle around the room. Avoiding that one spot. But he's looked at everything else. But the bed. _Oh._ The bed.

  
It is absolutely giant. Atem is certain it's bigger than a king bed. Atem owns a king bed. A very nice king bed. This is bigger. Somehow. He doesn't even want to imagine how much Yuugi spends on this very expensive furniture in his club. But those sheets. That brilliant carmine bedset.

  
Atem finds himself pacing over to the massive cushion. The massive, scandalous sex cushion, and its assorted drapery. He pokes it. Oh. He pinches the material between his finger, and thumb. Rubs them. Yes. Yes, it is so soft. Atem pats the bed. It rises up in seconds. He puts his hands on it, putting his weight into it. It still feels like a cloud. Nothing for it.

  
Atem flops onto it, groaning into the miracle bed cloud of unseemly encounters. He muffles a groans into it. Then another. And huffs, peering out of the side of his eye. He flops over onto his back. Oh. There's eyebolts on the ceiling, too. Adventurous. He absentmindedly reaches for the pillows. It's soft, too. He snatches one, covering his face. He gropes for another. Ah. That one is firm. Makes sense. He lays it on his chest anyway. A firm, huggable pillow. Made of condensed marshmallows.

  
A click echoes in the room. The click of a doorlatch. Atem freezes.

  
He isn't sure if he wants it to be Yuugi, or not. Not Yuugi? Person will hopefully leave. Con: Atem's dignity is in tatters. At least his face is covered. Yuugi? Yuugi is nice enough to at least act understanding, and polite. Con? Yuugi just walked in, seeing Atem spread eagle on his club's giant bed, suffocating himself with pillows.

  
Footsteps echo on the jaspilite floor, coming closer. There is a pause. Atem awaits the death sentence of his pride. Wondering how he shall go. The pillow on his face gets raised up slowly.

  
A bright smile reveals itself.

  
"Should I give you a minute alone?"

  
"...Perhaps." The pillow shifts itself back. Click of a bootstep. A second.

  
"Okay, then." Atem startles, shooting his hand out. He gropes awkwardly through the air before he catches ahold of an arm. A very toned arm. Nice.

  
"Please. Stay." It is quiet, Yuugi unmoving in his grasp. Then movement. Then footsteps. The bed dips beside Atem. Atem sits there, breathing in shadow. Himself, and his shame, partially hidden. And Yuugi. Reassuring, steady Yuugi.

  
Atem sits up. The pillows flop onto his legs with small plops. Atem grasps one, pulling it to his chest. Yuugi sits there beside him. A black utility bag is strung over his shoulder. Atem sits there, looking at Yuugi. He diverts his gaze to the mystery bag quickly. Yuugi's gaze glowing in the warm light a bit much for Atem to stare into. He roves his eyes over the pockets, and zippers. A sturdy bag. But one Atem has never seen the style of. A cord tying an outer flap shut over the whole thing. Sensing Atem not going to talk, Yuugi does instead.

  
"It's a nice bed, isn't it?" Atem hums noncommittally.

  
"I special order the size. Sometimes we get large parties." Atem takes this information in. Then dismisses it. He has no need to think about it. At all. Nor does he wish to.

  
"I love the sheets. People ask where we get them a lot. It's actually a place that makes sheets for hotels. But most of the staff have some of our own. And lots of guests want a set, too! We give everyone a code, and they can get a discount from us. Took a while to get that permitted. But lots of people buy them through here, so I think they like it." Very important information. Very much so. Atem makes a note that if he high-tails it out of here from shame, he needs to get that contact and discount code first.

  
"I see." Yuugi hums back. Atem lets his gaze wander up. He sees Yuugi sitting there, eyes closed with a tender smile. His dimples are noticeable. This close, in the soft lighting, Atem can spot soft freckles on the bridge of his nose.

  
Atem feels breathless.

  
"So. What is the plan?" Anything to get his mind off the soft smile. This beautiful man, in this luxurious bed with him. Yuugi's eyes pop open. His smile widens just a bit. His teeth show. Atem feels he is about to be caught by him. Yuugi's hands go for the large, too-zippered black bag. He reaches in. He pulls out...papers.

  
Huh?

  
"Oh, just some basic things. We have a checklist of yes/maybe/hard nos, a privacy contract, a couple of other things. Hmm, where did I..." Yuugi trails off, rummaging through his bag. He is rattling the bag, its contents clattering like a maraca. He leans into it, almost sticking his head into its depths. With a frustrated growl, he tosses a leather wrap bag onto the bed. It unfurls across the plush fabric. As it rolls, it unveils various bundles of rope, handcuffs, and chains. They shine as they jingle into disarray. Atem stares wide eyes as Yuugi actually does stick his spiked head into his satchel of secrets, grumbling to himself.

  
"Aha!" A hand jabs itself before Atem's face. A pen. Yuugi smiles victoriously before him. Yuugi clicks the pen thrice. Atem stares at it.  
Yuugi's smile doesn't fade a bit.

  
"Of course, you'll want to read the contract before you sign. But it's nothing weird. A contract to protect both of our privacy. A paper of emergency contacts. A paper saying we will only contact the emergency contacts in case of actual emergency, and not to disclose private information - learned from that one. A contact saying consent between us, provided we verbally agree on each scene. And the checklist, of course." Atem slowly reaches out. Grasps the shiny pen. The finger grip is soft in his fingers. Nothing on Atem's internet searches said anything about **_paperwork._**

  
Maybe Yuugi has a bureaucracy fetish.

  
But some little part in Atem's mind is quieted. All this stress, all these jitters. He thought he would have his first sexual encounter in years, in a BDSM club, on an outrageously opulent bed, and with a cherub-faced punk who liked puns.

  
Part of Atem pouts. Inwardly, of course. He deals with paperwork at work. Now he has to do it before he gets _laid._

  
Yuugi giggles before him. He reaches out, rubbing his thumb against Atem's bottom lip. Oh. Oh, crap. Atem was not pouting _inwardly._ He feels his cheeks flush.

  
"It's not bad, promise." And it isn't bad. The contracts seem clear-cut. Privacy information to others is given only upon Atem's sober consent. What goes on between them is private only between them. Unless both of them physically sign, and verbally agree to grant others that info. Emergency contacts, and privacy decisions about that. A clause that this private information can be given to health care workers for medical treatment. It is all surprisingly thought out. Atem says so.

  
"Yeah, there was some incidents at another club a few years back. Lawsuits, too. So a number of us got really careful with things because of it." Yuugi scratches the back of his neck. "Not that I would ever do anything. Or the people I would vouch for here. But it's on paper. So no one can say otherwise." Yuugi's eyes are stormy with bad memories. His mouth downturned like a weeping willow. His eyebrows a mountain ridge.

  
Atem pokes Yuugi's eyebrow furrow.

  
Yuugi jolts his eyes up. He looks like a startled cat.

  
"It's okay. I understand. I really appreciate how thoughtful it is." Atem does. The amount of care, and thoroughness sooth the anxiety in him. This isn't impulsive on Yuugi's end. He's careful and thorough. Atem knows this is a man who Atem can trust himself with.

  
And Atem does.

  
It startles something in Atem. He never trusts people besides his family. Never completely. And he trusts Yuugi so quickly, so neatly. He gulps.

  
Yuugi's bewildered stare softens. He leans in, his weight shifting the mattress. His legs slide across the silk, the rustled sheets whispering as he moves closer to Atem.

  
"I'm glad. Whatever you need, I'll provide." And suddenly there is something warm in Yuugi's eyes. But not the warmth of melted candy. Not the glow of gentle candlelight. Not smoldering. Not any of those looks he has given Atem before. No, this is a forge. Atem feels like he if he goes into the fire of Yuugi, he will come out different. Shaped anew.

  
Atem thinks he wants that.

  
Atem nods softly. Yuugi tilts his head, eyes flame-bright.

  
"Say it." Yuugi's voice isn't harsh. Not demanding. Yet he unfurls something in Atem's core. Leashing these desires in Atem's once-cold chest. Utterly controlling Atem's attention.

  
"I'd like that."

  
"You'd _like_ that?" It's a demand, but a waiting one. The way a parent implies a demand of thank you.

  
"I want that." It escapes Atem in a ragged breath. Yuugi smiles like it's what he wants to hear. A cherubic smile defying everything in the room. Everything he is doing to Atem. It is a smile full of teeth. Atem recalls what he thought earlier about big cats. Atem feels like he is about to be carried in a lion's jaws. Softly, from the scruff of his neck.

  
Atem snorts. He snickers. He tries desperately. But the laughter escapes from his mouth.

  
"Huh? What's funny?" Yuugi looks absolutely astonished. Bewildered. Big eyes grow even wider, eyebrows disappearing behind lightening bolt bangs. Atem struggles even more.

  
"I. It's just. Your hair. A lion. A-a lion's mane." Yuugi's hand flies up to his outrageously coiffed hair.

  
"What?! But your hair is almost the same as mine!" Yuugi jabs his index finger at Atem. Atem just nods through his guffawing.

  
"I-I know. I probably use more hair gel then you!" Yuugi's chest puffs out in true indignation.

  
"Ha! I use hair spray! It's far better." Atem reigns in his laughter.

  
"If you don't like breathing," he intones blandly. They stare at each other. For one moment. Two. Then they bust out in peals of laughter, ringing like warm bells throughout the space. Eventually, they wind down like tired little jack-in-the-boxes. Happy tears line their eyes, and a warmth has taken up in Atem's heart.

  
Like when you hold warm, freshly printed documents to your chest because you're a touch deprived, sad millennial.

  
"Alright, then." Yuugi clears his throat. His voice, a deep echo resonates through Atem's ears. "The paperwork is all handled. So now we move onto this." Yuugi organizes the papers, shuffling them into place. The whispers of the sheets as Yuugi bounces them against the clipboard resonate softly. Then Yuugi plucks another paper out, handing it to Atem.

  
Atem flushes instantly.

  
To be fair, Atem doesn't even know what half of these words mean. But what he does know is enough to procure his flushed face. Innocently, at the top, sits four words. Yes/No/Maybe checklist.

  
Bondage, divided neatly into ropes, cuffs, chains sits at the top. Then anal play, toys, wax play follow. And the list goes on, and on. Atem isn't just unsure of what some of these mean, and he's boggled by why they are on here. Degradation/humiliation - someone is into that? Atem can't imagine tolerating that, much less get off to it. Knife play - that's not five kinds of unsafe _a_ _t all._ Sounding? What. Also, what do figs have to do with sex? And so it continues. Atem hesitates. Will Yuugi think he is unready if he says something? Wishy washy? Or worse, unbelonging?

  
But when Atem looks up, it is to a gentle smile.

  
"I know it's a lot. We can go over it together." Once more, the anxieties in Atem's chest flee at that tender voice. And go over it they do. Yuugi is as non-judgmental with the list as he is with Atem. They go over Atem's first. Yuugi, he explains, already has his filled out. But he refuses to possibly sway Atem's answers.

  
"I just...don't understand how anyone could find that appealing," Atem hedges, confused.

  
"There's many people who wouldn't be interested in any of this." Atem contemplates this. He still doesn't understand how anyone could be interested in knifes, or hitting roughly, or insulting someone you care about. But Yuugi is correct. There is many people who would never be interested in being tied up, or blindfolded, or controlled in any way at all. Atem shrugs.

  
"I suppose that is that." Yuugi snickers at his flippancy.

  
"But what does figs have to do with sex? You already have food kinks down - do figs emanate a sexual aura I can't sense?" Yuugi instantly starts coughing a lung up in laughter.

  
"No, see. Um." Yuugi starts, before once again laughing.

  
"So. So. Do you know how people used to sell old tired horses at market?" Figs. Horses. BDSM. Atem isn't even sure what is going on with his life. Whatever. He'll bite.

  
"No...?" Yuugi bursts out in snickers again.

  
"So to make the horse more active, they would take off part of a ginger root, and, well. Put it up the horse's butt."

  
"That poor horse," Atem whispers quietly. He has learned information he wishes he had gone his whole life without knowing. In a BDSM sex club. And it's not about BDSM. He thinks.

  
"Anyway, it makes an individual more active, and can give an irritating sensation." Nevermind. It's about sex.

  
"And by individual...people do this to each other."

  
"Yep!" Yuugi looks like he's five seconds from snickering. "Sorry. Sorry. I mean people are into a lot of things. It's just got an interesting history, you know." Atem just nods quietly. He neither wants to know why someone first thought of doing that to horses, nor why people decided to do that to each other.

  
From then on, none of the kinks Yuugi explains to Atem are as notable. Atem knows some. Atem learns some. Mainly, Atem has a lot of maybes on his sheet. Atem purses his lips as he drums the sheet with his thumb. It reverberates like a bird's fluttering heartbeat.

  
"I have a lot of maybes," Atem stands blandly. He doesn't want to make it a problem, if it isn't. Yet he is still certain it is. Hesitancy, and a feeling of unbelonging bounce around in his skull. They are familiar guests.

  
"Of course you do." Atem looks up at brilliant boysenberry eyes. And that soft smile. That soft smile, with those pearly white teeth. Dimples, and everything.

  
Atem snaps himself out of his gay moment.

  
"You're new at this," Yuugi gestures to the checklist. "And you just learned what things mean. How can you have an opinion on stuff you've just heard of?" Atem stares at it. Then he nods. The little voice in his heart doesn't go away. But it does quiet.

  
"Now." Yuugi clears his throat again. "You need to sign the bottom of this list." Sign? Why would he need to sign a likes list?

  
"This states that you understand that we do not participate in bloodplay, scat, or urine play. The club cannot allow this at this location because of biohazard issues. There's been infection problems in other places. Don't. Ask. Also, I literally can't find cleaners for my club who would handle that. And I don't recommend the process of calling cleaners for sex club biohazards." Yuugi looks mildly haunted by whatever business gauntlet he ran in this issue. Atem doesn't care. He isn't interested in that. He whips his signature on the dotted line. Yuugi sighs. Relieved. Atem also wonders what fits people have thrown over this. But he brushes it aside.

  
And pokes Yuugi's forehead again.

  
Yuugi lights up with another smile. His face relaxed. His eyes warm like molten tanzanites. Yuugi reaches up slowly. He grasps Atem's wrist, enclosing it in his palm. Atem lets his arm lay pliable in Yuugi's hold. Atem is hypnotized by the look in Yuugi's eyes. Yuugi unfurls Atem's fingers, one by one. Then he lays a kiss. One on each finger. On the knuckles. He flips the hand around, finally planting an open mouth kiss to Atem's palm. He whispers, there, in Atem's hand. His warm breath skates across Atem's wrist. His voice burrowing itself into Atem's veins.

  
"You're just a sweet one, huh?"

  
Yuugi releases Atem's hand, his grin like a smug cat. He surveys the damage done. It's a lot. Atem feels his countenance in tatters. He's heated, and flushed like a stove iron. Yuugi just sits there. Smug. Mischievous. Unforgivably beautiful. Wait, Atem, no-

  
But Yuugi turns around, grabbing a piece of paper. He whips his head around like a bullet. Plopping his paper on top of Atem's lap. Oh. His checklist.

  
"Now we compare them!" Yuugi's smile is bright like the stars. Completely unindicative of what he just pulled. Atem can't decide confusion, seething anger, or admiration.

  
Curiosity wins.

  
Atem plucks Yuugi's sheet up in anticipation. And - they don't match perfectly. He scowls at the offending paper. Yuugi laughs.

  
"No one is a perfect match. Especially when you are so new. You have things to try, things to learn. Boundaries might go forward, or back. Most of these maybes are curiosity, right?" Atem nods considerately. He figures a sheet from him in months would look different. But he is just filled with this fascination. This longing for Yuugi like he has no one else...

  
Atem still puts the sheet down with a _controlled_ expression of displeasure. He looks over. Yuugi has that easy-going smile. Atem refuses to budge. He may have not known what his expectations were, but spending the day filling out a glorified 'I-Don't-Know' sheet wasn't it!

  
There is a jab. In Atem's nose.

  
"Boop!"

  
Damn it. Atem can't help, but smile. And as he stares into that cheesy grin, he just starts snickering. Giggles erupt. Though if anyone asks, Atem would deny. A lot. This man fills him with fizzy bubbles. This man smoothes away Atem's troubled thoughts. He might have weird kinky sex with Atem. And he boops Atem's nose. Atem doesn't know how. But he has never felt more free.

  
And he is discussing being tied up in chains.

  
They settle it quickly, Atem doing his best to focus on something other than Yuugi's eyes. Or voice. Or damn, cheery grin. And they settle it. A safeword, Kuriboh. (Yuugi's a nerd, too. Blessing.) A slow path, starting with things like the basics of BDSM, and bondage. Slowly introducing things as Atem gets comfortable. Neither have an interest in humiliation, or impact play. But ropes, stimulation, a host of things to try, and something Yuugi calls 'service', interests them plenty. The butterflies in Atem's gut desire it now. All of it.The voice in his head says he'll never be comfortable. Never be good enough at people, at interacting, at Yuugi, for this. He tells it to shut up.

  
"So, when do we start?" He tries, desperately trying to catch the butterflies roiling about. Yuugi quirks a brow.

  
"Either today, or to be seen." Atem has no desire for vagueness.

  
"Well, today, of course," he says in response. Yuugi snorts with a contrite, crooked smile.

  
"I mean it depends on how we look at it. We can start some basics today - sex, no."

  
_"Why?"_ Yuugi just waves a piece of paper jauntily.

  
"Blood tests." Yuugi looks rather amused.

"You signed it, remember?" Atem can't help his scowl. He finally tamps down his insecurity, and he can't even experience anything with this man. This beautiful, wonderful man. And his pretty eyes. And nice grin. And very nice ass. Yes, Atem has looked, thank you.

  
"But," Yuugi pauses. He moves to Atem. "We can do a few things now." Yuugi says, trailing his calloused fingers down Atem's bare arms. Atem tries to listen. Tries to ignore the piercing rate of his heartbeat. The goosebumps erupting from his skin. He gulps.

  
"What do you have in mind?" Atem gets out. Yuugi hums as if he is still contemplating. Fucker. Yuugi hums a second time as he circles in front of Atem. He grasps Atem's chin.

  
"I _could_ show you a few basics." Atem puffs his chest out, trained false confidence rising over the butterflies.

  
"Then let's start." Yuugi tsks.

  
"You know, I thought you were a sweet thing. Still are, really. But you're a bit of a brat. A sweet little brat, huh? Scowling, and puting, and posturing all the time." Yuugi sounds more like he's pondering to himself at this point. Atem feels indignation rise. How dare he. How dare this pretty man think he can call Atem such a thing? Thinks his pretty grin, and nice ass can excuse it?

  
"You need things. Structure. Intimacy. Someone to hold you to the standards you set for yourself. Or tell you it's okay. Handing over control because it feels that no matter how well you are doing, you feel like it's all too much." Yuugi continues. He strokes Atem's cheek. Atem feels the air violently evicted from his lungs. He feels as if he was on a precipice. During an earthquake.

  
"I can give you that. I can look after you, sweetheart. Give you everything you need." Yuugi pinches Atem's cheek fondly. "My baby brat." Yuugi coos. Atem wants to be offended but he's still struggling out of the overwhelming tsunami Yuugi reminded Atem he was in. Thanks.

  
"I." What does one say after that? Yuugi just quirks a brow.

  
"You listen to me when we are in a scene. Yes, or no?" It feels a deciding path. It's one thing to say vague terms like bondage, or service submission on paper. It's another to face someone, and give them the reigns. Atem thinks of what he thought earlier. Of how the big cat below Yuugi's surface would carry Atem's heart gently in his teeth. Thinks of how he feels when Yuugi praised him for returning the jacket. How that felt, actually praised for something he did. Not repeated statements of how everyone expects high standards from Atem. Praise. The warmth in Atem's heart, that used to feel cold. Empty. For something so small. Thinks of this warm, calm man. How he makes Atem feel alive.

  
"Yes."

  
"Yes, Yuugi." Yuugi corrects, smile quicksilver. "Or sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PYSCH! Y'all probably thought it would be sexy times. Nope. We got checklists, we got STD tests, we have responsible buisness practices because I cannot imagine the law suits from a possible infection issue, sorry (not that it would be in here anyway :b).
> 
> Also, Yuugi, and Atem are both simultanously BABY and LITTLE DIPSHIT. Hope y'all enjoyed.


End file.
